Being Human
by ZonateBiscuit
Summary: Original Imagine: Imagine Lucifer is a virgin and wants you to be his first. "I never understood the practice of fornication." She could hear the disgust in his voice, and agreed with the emotion on principle for the situation. It was likely a passing couple, or a prostitute. And this motel was a dump. "Decided to talk now, have we? And it's called sex."
1. Being Human (3rd Person)

**Title: **Being Human

**Original Imagine: **Imagine Lucifer is a virgin and wants you to be his first.

**Author: **ZonateBiscuit

**Reader Gender: **Female

**Word count: ** 6,141 Roughly (I apologise, but it should be worth it).

**Warnings: **Some language, some smut (or lemons as they used to be), and some cursing, but we're all adults here. I hope. Also, this is set after 5.19. This is important, but I won't spoil it for the reader, but if you remember or look it up, something significant happens that has affected the characters in this scene even though it's not blatantly mentioned straight away, just to give some insight into the POV's. Finally, I wanted to add that I think a first time for an Angel would be more intense (both emotionally and physically) than I have portrayed here but I've already made it 6,000 words... I would imagine something like this would have a huge impact on Lucifer in any regard no matter what way you would write it, so I have done my best.

Also this is the third person POV. Second person POV is the next chapter.

"_There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time." _

― _C. JoyBell C._

"It's called sleep."

"Hilarious."

Maggie released a gusty, exhausted sigh that heated a tiny patch of her crappy motel pillow. Face mushed against it, she frowned, witheyes still firmly closed against the presence in the room. It was three in the morning (she only knew this because she had just finished a job and had collapsed, fully clothed, on top of the bed), and he was sucking all the heat out of the room. "It's a thing humans do."

He hummed. "I'm aware."

She waited. He was still there. There was a feeling of pins and needles on her back that came when something powerful turned its attention on you. "So, go away?"

"No. I have work for you to do."

"You _had_ work for me to do. I did it. I need to recharge." She pointed a finger towards the headboard because she was too tired to shift and point it at the bathroom behind her and across the room. "Your nasty spell shit is in there."

"Thank you." There was a pause, and Maggie distantly started to pick up on his tone. He sounded strange. Subdued. "You know I can – "

Maggie raised the same finger up to the ceiling in protest. "No. No Angel mojo, please. I dislike staying awake for more than forty eight hours straight. You juiced me for this one. My body doesn't like it."

"That's ridiculous."

She curled her finger back into the grip she had on the pillow. "S'truth."

"My Grace should not have that effect on your body. I could make you stay awake for weeks on end if I chose."

Not the point, she thought. Sanity was important as a Hunter. And a human. No Angel seemed to understand that sleep was good for mental health. "Mm. Do that and I won't help you anymore."

There was a rustle and shift, and she imagined him crossing his arms and glaring down at her like the Diva he was. "You're under the impression that you can walk away from me."

Oh, that was a dark tone. Darker than she would have thought from him with her little teasing remark. She had expected his pissy and horrible 'you've-severely-annoyed-me-I-want-to-smite-you-unless-you-change-your-attitude-quickly' voice. Not an actual 'I'm-on-the-verge-of-killing-you' voice.

Heaving her body over was the hardest thing she had had to do today, and that included harvesting werewolf organs from a family pack of seven. Maggie was just thankful none of them had been children. Her moral code tended to fall into grey areas at times, but hurting children - even monster children - was a giant 'NO' on the moral scale. Let them grow up and have a fighting chance. It was only fair.

Once flopped over onto her back, one arm stretched wide across the twin bed, Maggie kept her eyes closed to stem the inevitable confrontation of an irate Archangel. He was terrifying at times, but she tried her best to ignore the fear. It was what helped her cope when her friend Lily had introduced her to the Morning Star in a dive bar in BFE - because she was a freaky, closet Lucifer enthusiast – and had somehow ended up charming her way into being his go-to gal for ritual memorabilia.

Having a grandmother for a witch had helped, too.

"Don't be so sour. I thought you liked my attitude."

The mood shifted again. Such a palpable presence he had. The anger seemed to simmer to a dull burn. "'Tolerate' is a more apt word."

"'Like' is a much better one."

The temperature very suddenly dropped several degrees. Maggie sighed. "Please don't do that."

"What?"

She grunted. "You know exactly what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Maggie rolled her eyes behind closed eyelids. It had been a while since she had seen him in person. Usually he sent a minion to tell her what he needed. Said minion would teleport her to a place, she would get the job done, and he would either send another minion to collect the stuff, or he would come when everything was set up for the next stage of his plan. Usually, Maggie was off doing the next job. This was an unexpected housecall. Well, if a crappy motel off a motorway at the edge of a city counted as a house.

The silence was long enough to have Maggie dozing. If he wasn't going to cave and tell her what he was really here for, he could fuck off and let her sleep.

A car passed by throwing up a column of light across her eyelids. Doors thumped. Voices murmured past the window. The voices turned into giggling, and then key rattling, and then moans.

Oh, awesome. Just what she needed.

The new neighbours got into their temporary domicile, and then the thumps started. A bag falling. Shoes. Bodies against the wall. The dresser being knocked. More giggling. Laughter. Moans. And they hit the bed.

Which was against the headboard of Maggie's on the other side.

The rhythm was fast paced and the moans of the woman were obscenely ridiculous.

"Oh, come on," Maggie huffed, opening her eyes to the bare ceiling. "There's no fucking way he's that good. Calm the fuck down!"

It kept going, but did slow down. Thankful, Maggie threw her arm over her eyes with a sigh.

"I never understood the practice of fornication."

She could hear the disgust in his voice, and agreed with the emotion on principle for the situation. It was likely a passing couple, or a prostitute. And this motel was a dump. "Decided to talk now, have we? And it's called sex."

"Watch your tone," he said, but there was no real heat in it. Instead, he just sounded tired. What the hell had happened to him? "It's a disgusting action. Human disease and fluids; rampant and abundant."

"Sex can be messy and horrible – and I agree with the nasty part in places like this, and good God some of the ideas people have – but it feels good. Humans are also greedy. Once they find something they like, they keep doing it."

"It's base, and crude, and shows you for the true, flawed abortions you really are. Father's biggest mistake."

Maggie kept her mouth shut for a moment, working through that lovely little insight. It sounded like he had said it before. Those exact words, expressed in that way, but again there was a lack of conviction that she didn't understand. "All animals do it for reproduction," she said carefully. "Some animals even do it for fun or connection."

"Angels are above such things."

"I've heard of Nephelim, so I'm calling you on that one. There's also Gabriel -"

There was a quiet hiss, followed by a sudden fury in his voice. "The Fallen and disloyal. Unworthy scum that suck on humanity."

Maggie licked her lips. That was ... that was a very harsh response. Very unwilling to cross into the territory of what had him this way, she let the first thing that entered her mind come out. "You haven't experienced it, so I don't see how you can comment."

It derailed him completely. A tense moment of silence, and then a baffled, "And what makes you think that?"

The moans in the next room crescendoed into an explosive orgasm. Awkward. There was five minutes of silence, in which Maggie was starting to relish, until they started up again. It was slower, and quieter, but still. "Oh God. I'm not actually going to get any sleep, am I? And you have to be. No one talks about sex that way unless they've had a terrible go of it, or they've never experienced it. You don't strike me as the type that would have had a terrible time."

"Why do you say that?"

"You probably would have said, for one. You're telling me Angels are above such base instincts, so you're counting yourself there, and I really don't see you picking a human to have sex with randomly anyway. You loathe us. Even me. I do you as you want me to, and you haven't smote me or harmed me - because I'm a good little human who kinda likes you, and feels bad for you, and doesn't want to die - but I'm still alive. All valid reasons. If you can't like me in a normal capacity, then I don't see you finding someone to be intimate with."

The bed dipped. The cold came closer. Maggie took in a deep breath and released it slowly as she allowed her arm to slip above her head to the pillow. She opened her eyes to view his human vessel very close, straddling her body on all fours to look down at her. He looked awful. His skin was raw and sore, breaking apart like he was bursting from the inside out. It was all along his temples and cheeks and hands, and his hair was a bit wilder than she had last seen it. His skin was sickly pale with dark shadows around his eyes. He was also getting a bit of a paunch. All that Demon blood to keep him anchored.

"You equate sex with intimacy."

"To a point, yes," she answered simply, allowing her eyes to take him in to catalogue how far he was disintegrating. The cold draped around them like invisible vapour. She shivered reflexively.

He frowned. "Why?"

"Sex is connection. I can't have sex with someone I'm not emotionally connected or invested in. It bores me. It should feel good. It can be fun and mind blowing and make you think you see Heaven on Earth if done correctly." The moans died down after another happy orgasm. They heard nothing more. Maggie sighed, bringing the hand that had been flung to one side up to trace the sores on the right side of his face. She scrunched up her face in sympathy. There was nothing like feeling too big for your skin. "Humans have spent their entire existence in the absence of God. We've had no proof of something bigger than us but what we interpret in our everyday lives. Finding connection with each other is all we have at times. In family and friends. In our offspring and our partners. We don't have what you have."

His expression was quiet, eyes roving over her features. There was something there in his gaze that she found hard to pinpoint. "And what's that?"

"Proof of our Faith. We don't have it until we die. And even then, we still question it. Our entire lives," she lamented, "and all we think about at the end is the question of 'is there something more?' At least Angels know."

His expression didn't change, but he tilted his head. Maggie smiled a bit at the gesture. He had been locked away for millennia, carrying his avid hatred, and he still had the same curious gesture that she had seen from other Angels. But he eventually frowned, and moved to pull away, as if he had expected that answer. "My brother was wrong. Typical human imaginings. Even when you die, you still want more. There is nothing worthy of loyalty or regard."

Maggie pulled her hand away and sighed. She didn't understand what he was getting at, but she was annoyed that out of all of that, he still misinterpreted what she was saying. Leaning up on her elbows, she frowned at him. He jerked to a stop, still hovering over her. "Why do you – why are you - " She stopped and clenched her jaw in mild frustration, before releasing a sigh. "You know what? Fine. I'll make you a deal. As stupid as this sounds," She cringed as she said it, "I would like you to kiss me – don't make a face I haven't finished yet. It sounds like a bad cliché, but I'd like you to try it. At least once." She awkwardly spread her fingers in a placating gesture. "If you don't feel anything, or experience anything at all, then that's the end of it."

He shook his head, genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Because I don't like strong opinions on something someone hasn't tried. Clearly something has happened that you don't want to talk about – and I won't pry because it's not my place and you'll do horrible things to me – but if you're going to hate humanity, don't hate us for what your Father gave us. Yes, we took liberties with free will, and we are a poor example of something that God made considering how utterly, mind-blowingly beautiful the world is, but we still have base instincts that came with the package."

There were still several inches between their faces, but Maggie held fast to see what he would say. She didn't expect him to frown at her and just dive in. She would deny the squeak if anyone asked, but it was her first reaction to seeing him loom in close. She jerked away. "Wait a minute! I have some stipulations."

He brought his head back and adjusted his hands on either side of her with a long suffering sigh. "You said – "

"I know what I said. Doesn't mean you just go for it and expect whatever it is you're expecting. You can't go into this deal automatically assuming you'll feel nothing. This is an opinion of us as a species, and me as a kisser, so I'd rather you actually make the most of it, thanks."

"Get on with your terms, then. Before I lose what's left of my patience."

After making sure he was actually serious and not feeling smitey, Maggie relaxed a bit onto her elbows. "I'll make it quick."

"Good."

"Don't start."

He kept mercifully silent, but gave her a look.

"Alright." She cleared her throat. "Give it a few seconds so you can judge. We'll try more than one straight kiss, because a chaste kiss can be nice, but a little more can make or break it. Participation is key. If you're not trying, then the entire point of it is lost. Instructions might be needed since you've never done it before so patience and actually listening is good. Oh, and let me breathe when I need to because I know you won't. Listen to the queues I'm giving you. I may not be able to vocalise instantly, so body language is important. Just give it a chance – "

"This is quick? You're telling me I should try one kiss, yet you are giving me pressure and demands before we've even started. I don't see how this is supposed to convince me to – "

Maggie realised he was actually right, so she leaned up and just gently pressed her mouth to his to shut him up before he did something that didn't agree with her staying alive. Eyes closing reflexively, she opened up her other senses for the experience. He was cold. That was a given. She had lost her balance once when a Demon shoved her rather rudely, and had grabbed the nearest person to her at the time. His skin had felt alive with energy, but dense with a cold that made her fingers tingle. His lips felt the same, but not as heavy, if that made any sense at all. It was a bit like brushing off a cold pillow. Soft, a little dry, but quite soothing. He didn't respond for a moment, and then it was like everything she had said clicked and he was pressing back with the same pressure.

After a few seconds she pulled away. Opening her eyes, she watched him stare at her, suspecting he had kept his gaze on her the entire time. She could see his mind working, eyes assessing her carefully. He seemed to come to a decision and leaned in again. Maggie tried to hold in a smile when she sank down a bit onto the bed before he reached her. He stopped to evaluate her response again, and then leaned down to follow her. She allowed his lips to brush hers once, twice, but sank down again. Her arms were getting tired in supporting her, but teasing him a little was too fun.

Features hardening a little at her game, he dropped his weight down on her rather abruptly. Maggie huffed out a laugh at the childish move, but it was muffled when he brought his mouth down to follow suit. The kiss was still chaste, but she could feel him put more effort into it. A little more pressure, and she turned her head just a tiny amount to let his bottom lip come between her own.

A small puff of air huffed across her cheek at the action. Pleased, Maggie squirmed a bit to get more comfortable. One of his legs was now between hers, with his torso caging her as much as he was able without her opening her legs altogether. He fitted along her side and front, adjusting his arms to bear his weight on either side of her shoulders and head.

Wanting to guide him some, she gently grasped his head on either side and pulled him away. He did so immediately. "Open your mouth a little. Move it with mine. It doesn't have to be one long kiss. It can be short little ones too."

He was leaning in before she even finished her sentence and trapped her bottom lip like she had done to him. She couldn't help the small noise that escaped her. That was nice. He pulled back again and she angled them a different way.

He seemed to enjoy it overall. There were no noises from him, but he was intent in participating, which was more than she had expected. He might just be resolutely set on completing the task to his fullest ability so he could give her a properly informed opinion of how right he had been, but it was better than nothing.

Maggie gently pushed him away again. "Is this okay?"

"Yes." He licked his lips and holyshithehadaforkedtongue.

"I - huh. Do that again."

He frowned and shook his head at the non-sequitur. "What?"

She held his face in her hands and rubbed her thumbs along the corners of his mouth. "Your tongue. Let me see it." This was highly important. He stuck out his tongue like a child, and Maggie stared, mesmerised. "You have a forked tongue."

He tucked it away. "I do. Why do you look like that?"

"You have a forked tongue."

"Have you lost the ability to function? What's wrong with you?"

Maggie finally tore her gaze away from his mouth and looked up to meet his dark eyes. "I've never kissed someone with a forked tongue."

"Well, now you have."

"No, that wasn't – I mean, yes it was kissing, but I was gonna end it there if you were happy. I didn't think you'd go for tongues but now I kinda want to try. Can I try?" She absently ran her thumb along his lower lip. It seemed to distract him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Maggie nodded. She probably sounded a little crazy but seriously, she was already kissing Lucifer, why not make it interesting? Informed opinion and all. "Sorry, but just go with it, please. Part your lips. Mouth open a bit. You can kiss with tongues involved."

Something clicked in his expression, but he curled his lip. "I have seen that practice. It looks vile."

Maggie gently tugged his head back down towards her. He resisted. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but I would really," She bussed her mouth against his, "really," And again, "like to try."

She was amused to find he'd already developed an automatic response by pursing his lips to meet her even though his face was painted confused bafflement. She caught him in another short kiss, and he grunted, "Fine," and reciprocated.

He opened his mouth a fraction, and she carefully licked the inside of his bottom lip in preparation for entering, watching his reaction through half closed eyes in case he bit down on reflex. He inhaled sharply, eyes dropping and turning a little glazed. Taking that positively, she licked his teeth, and he opened more until she could brush her tongue against his.

He didn't taste of anything in particular, thank God. She belatedly remembered the potential aftertaste of Demon blood, but there was just the semi-dry feeling of the flat of his tongue and the sudden dip between the two sections. He grunted, and released a breath through his nose to whoosh across her cheek. The bi-sectioned tip curled up on reflex to trap hers. Maggie shuddered, a short, aborted moan vibrating in her throat. Retreating back, she slid her hands up into his hair to pull the strands taught and press him closer. Her left leg almost had a mind of its own when it dragged up the back of his right that was between her legs. He twitched, head tilting, mouth opening wider. He took initiative hesitantly, the forked tip licking along her bottom lip before he entered. Feeling a bit bold and wanting more, Maggie allowed him a few seconds to trace along her teeth and tongue before trapping the slick muscle between her lips and sucking hard.

He groaned, heavy and loud, and then his hands were in her hair to angle her head so he could surge in again. Over and over, curling up and around, meeting to confront in the middle when neither wanted to give in to the other. He seemed to have a sensitive lower lip. When she bit it lightly, he hissed but allowed her to do it again and again with his dark gaze watching her. He was surprisingly willing to let her pull him closer with fistfuls of his hair, going so far as to press into her harder when she did it. He groaned, grunted deep in his throat, and tightened his grip on her hair when she sucked on his tongue again, and he seemed to enjoy the sensation of her palate on the sensitive tips.

Maggie couldn't get enough of it. It was a dual sensation. He used the bi-sected muscle to pin her tongue several times, so he could drag parallel along the sensitive edges. Her palate was fairly sensitive, so it tickled when he barely brushed the tips along the ridges.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she pulled back for some air to find her mouth pleasantly sore and jaw tired. Panting lightly, she let her eyes rove over his features. His hair was wild, his eyes bright, mouth a little red, and lips plump. His breathing was a little shallow too.

"Wow," she said, blinking up at him. He didn't answer verbally, but he nodded. "Jesus."

He made a negating noise. "Lucifer."

Maggie laughed breathlessly. "Yeah. Lucifer."

He dropped his head to rest his forehead on hers, making a pleased noise.

Maggie didn't know what to do now. They were suddenly in new territory. Did she stop? Ask for more? Ask him what he wanted? This hadn't been how she had planned her night. Unsure, she thought to let him take the initiative if he wanted to. How do you transition from kissing Lucifer to going back to normal? Had he formed his opinion? Was that what this was anymore? To soothe her racing mind, she decided to use the lull to her advantage. She thread her fingers through his hair to smooth it out. He closed his eyes at the motions, and leaned more on her when she palmed his jaw and slipped her hands down his chest, and then around to his back to soothe the tense muscles of his vessel.

He relaxed in increments until he was chest to chest with her, but she could still breathe comfortably. His head dropped down to her left shoulder, the cool puff of a sigh chilling her skin. Resting her chin on his shoulder, Maggie slowly trailed her hands down where she imagined his wings would be until she hit his lower back. Several minutes of petting, and then she gently tugged up the hem of his over-shirt and t-shirt until she could scratch her nails along his skin. He arched up slightly, causing his lower body to shift against her leg, and released a soft hiss.

He was aroused. The hard length of him along her thigh was evidence enough of that.

"Is this a normal feeling?"

His voice sounded rough, low, and a little muffled by his mouth against her skin. Maggie swallowed, skin prickling and fingers curling into his skin. Clearing her throat, she asked him, "Which part?"

There was a short pause, in which she thought he was trying to find the best way to articulate how arousal felt to someone who'd never felt it before. "I ache."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"That's normal. It's arousal."

"I need something... _Need_." He said the word with such confusion and disgust. "I _need_. I have never –" He stopped, rising up to look down at her. He looked angry, confused, and a little lost. "This is not something..."

_Not something I expected. Or wanted. Or have felt before._

Saying he didn't like it would be an understatement. She could tell it was something he had prided himself on ignoring. Angels didn't experience feelings like this. They were better, stronger, and more superior to humans. They had lived millennia in Heaven, away from it all. Or in his case, a cage in Hell, where he had felt nothing but hatred and contempt, and a burning desire to punish them all for transgressions their ancestors had committed.

Unwilling to move lest she disturb his new discovery of what humans could feel, Maggie just rested her hands on the cool skin of his lower back and waited it out. She could see his struggle. Fury was building in his dark gaze, but it wasn't aimed at her directly, even though she suspected it should be. She had encouraged him to participate, after all. He was staring just above her crown, and she didn't think he noticed that he was still cradling her head in his large hands. Underneath the fury, was something akin to regret ... and pain. Something deep-seated that she didn't understand, but that she believed was related to his reasons for being here with her now.

He finally turned his regard back to her, where he just stared. She could see the ancient being there, bitter and so very old and tired, that had waited for his due. Maggie did the only thing she could think of; she brought her hands up to pull him down to her where she kissed him.

Her entire life was made up of hunting, surviving, and cleaning up the world. They were nearing the end of the world once Lucifer finished his plans, and she had ended up throwing her lot in with him simply because she had nothing else. She had tried to be good all her life, had expected to end up in Hell anyway, and she had nothing left to lose except herself.

Until she died, Maggie thought she might as well lose herself in him.

He tensed at first, but then he released a low growl before driving open her mouth to consume anything she could offer him. What had been a gorgeous exploration of different ways of kissing earlier was now a deep, greedy well of want. Maggie could barely keep up. He insinuated himself in the cradle of her thighs with a gripping adjustment of her leg. He wrapped it around his waist and thrust instinctively. When he couldn't get the right amount of friction, he growled in frustration, tearing his mouth away to suck a biting kiss at her pulse.

Maggie released a surprised shout at the sharp nip, quickly shoving her hands down and under his shirts to pull them up. They got stuck between them, but he arched his back up and tugged them off with violent, sharp movements. She almost wondered if he'd forgotten he was an Angel but the thought was lost when he shifted down further, dragging at the covers and taking a tight grip of her tank top. It hitched on her chest, but she helped him get it off, and arched up to unclasp her bra so he wouldn't have to think about it. She faltered with a breathless gasp when he took the opportunity to wind his arm behind her to pull her up for better access to her skin.

He was freezing, but she was so flushed that it was actually pretty fucking awesome. The bra came loose, and they pulled impatiently enough that a strap snapped against her before he tossed it away. Half risen from the bed, Maggie bore down on his lap with a groan when his cold tongue found her nipple. "Fuck!" she gasped. "Lucifer."

He moaned at the use of his name, opening his mouth to suck and trap her nipple with his bisected tongue. Her hands flew up to grasp his hair in a tight grip, mouth opening and eyes rolling up at the shot of arousal that dropped to her gut. She was making ridiculous noises when he moved to the other one, anchoring her to him with both arms wrapped around her back. His impatience won out when she felt herself drop to the bed without care, only to feel him fumble at her jeans.

"I need – " He choked when she hooked her legs around him to grind against his length. He panted, hands stilling, letting his head fall back with a helpless thrust of his hips. "I can't – I don't – " He bared his teeth and clenched his jaw.

Maggie came back to her senses a bit when she copped what he was saying. New territory. Knowing the mechanics, and feeling the hormones that go with sex were two different things. Forcing some of the haze away, she clawed at his shoulders until she was upright and sitting in his lap. She caught his adams apple for a sucking bite. He released a word she didn't recognise, guttural and low, hugging her to him to support her and keep her close. Holding herself up by a hand on the back of his neck and one arm over to rest on his opposite shoulder blade, Maggie bit and sucked up to his lower lip before reminding him what he was. "Lucifer. Archangel. The Morning Star and second born to God. Fuck me."

He groaned before they were suddenly both naked, and he was restlessly palming her thighs and ass. Wanting more of that tongue, Maggie practically ate at his mouth while she used one hand to check her own readiness. Slipping a hand between them, she found she was slick, but to make sure, she inserted two fingers gently to encourage her body to release more. She brushed a spot, and grunted at the spike of pleasure through her body. It felt like a current of electricity tightening her muscles. Hand partially coated, she slipped slick fingers around his length. His breath got stuck in his throat on an aborted grunt, grip moving to knead her ass roughly. He thrust into her hand. Skin slick from sweat, Maggie adjusted her grip so he was close enough to graze her clit. "Fuck that's good," she gasped, pulling back from his mouth to suck in a gulp of air. Lucifer gasped and dropped his head to bite harshly at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Maggie got the message. Rising up, she carefully lined him up, and steadily dropped her weight down. His grip got tighter, and he jerked, causing him to drive a little deeper before she was quite ready. "Easy," she panted. "Give me a second."

He growled, but tensed with everything he had, letting go of her neck with a sucking pop to rest his cool temple against her own. Icy breaths puffed across her skin, causing her to shudder, which in turn caused a small whine to erupt from his throat when she inadvertently tightened around him. "_Maggie._"

"Fuck," she gasped, clutching at his forearm - it was thick and hard with how still he was holding himself - when he jerked again, hitting a sensitive spot that made her ache for more. "Sorry." Forcing herself to relax, she sank a little further, until there was no more space between them. He was big. Bigger than what she'd had before, and it was tight, just a hair's breadth away from uncomfortable, but she would adjust. She had to. She wanted to. It had just been a while. "Oh." She swallowed. "Oh, you feel good. So, so good."

"_Maggie_."

Maggie nodded, pulling back to land on the bed but keeping him close so she could encourage him to fall with her. He went easily, before sliding his hands up her waist, over her breasts with a light touch, and ending up under her shoulders to keep her locked to him. She sucked in a much needed breath at the change in angle, and he tensed for just a moment, muscles taught along his back and legs, and then he shifted his hips back. "Instinct should kick in," she said, voice shaky and a little weak, "no matter what you are."

He nodded, but she didn't think he actually registered her words, because he was already surging back into her with one, long thrust. He brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just inside and up, and Maggie wrapped her legs around his thighs with a soft hiss.

What began as a careful list forward and retreat, turned into a steady, flexing roll that stole her senses. The noises she made probably rivalled the neighbours, but _good fucking God it was good_. It wasn't even that he managed to hit some good spots several times in a row; it was that he was learning how to move by how she reacted and the sound of him ... Jesus. The sound of him. He was panting, groaning, and rambling a steady stream of what sounded like Enochian, face buried in her neck.

He sped up again after a few minutes, a driving force of desperation and need, and she was surprised he had lasted this long. She was also surprised that he managed to curb his celestial strength.

She was building quickly. Too much sensation, coupled with who she was actually doing this with - Lucifer the Archangel, second born to God, who'd been castout to reside in a cage in the depths of Hell, and who was ridiculously controlled and attentive to her - was sending her brain into overload. Once, just once, she dragged her head up to look down along the line of his back. Fuck, it was a sight to behold. Tense muscles, although pale, flexed with sharp rolls, until he began a blinding pace that forced her head to fall back so she could breathe. He released a shoulder to grasp one thigh, hitching it high and tight against him, opening her more so he could ground down harder.

She keened in his ear and tried to grab the headboard to help her with traction. It was pointless, so instead she dragged her nails down his back just as he hit the right spot that hitched her higher and higher and higher until she broke. Arching up, her whole body tensed. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs just stopped altogether, which nearly caused her to black out. Spots tingled across her vision and just when she couldn't take it, her ears picked up his voice.

The Enochian was rougher, and he allowed her one deep breath before latching his mouth to hers. With her last brain cell, she managed to reciprocate enough to give a last hard suck on his tongue and he was gone. His rhythm was lost immediately, and he grunted, tearing his mouth from hers to shout his release into the damp skin of her neck.

For several moments, he couldn't stop the reflexive surge of his hips, and Maggie pulsed and tightened around him when he hit an over-sensitive spot. He hissed when it became too much, but he held fast to her when she tried to let him go. She lay back, content to wait. After several minutes of combing her fingers through his hair and calming her heart, he eventually slipped out, and shuffled down to rest his head on her breast, legs tangled with hers. They stayed that way for some time, until Maggie fell asleep.

She woke up alone, pleasantly sore, but aching. Two days later, a Demon told her that Gabriel was no longer in the picture, and hadn't been for several days.

Lucifer had killed his brother.


	2. Being Human (2nd Person)

**Title: **Being Human

**Original Imagine: **Imagine Lucifer is a virgin and wants you to be his first.

**Author: **ZonateBiscuit

**Reader Gender: **Female

**Word count: ** 6,141 Roughly (I apologise, but it should be worth it).

**Warnings: **Some language, some smut (or lemons as they used to be), and some cursing, but we're all adults here. I hope. Also, this is set after 5.19. This is important, but I won't spoil it for the reader, but if you remember or look it up, something significant happens that has affected the characters in this scene even though it's not blatantly mentioned straight away, just to give some insight into the POV's. Finally, I wanted to add that I think a first time for an Angel would be more intense (both emotionally and physically) than I have portrayed here but I've already made it 6,000 words... I would imagine something like this would have a huge impact on Lucifer in any regard no matter what way you would write it, so I have done my best.

Also this is the second person POV. Third person POV is the previous chapter.

"_There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time." _

― _C. JoyBell C._

"It's called sleep."

"Hilarious."

You released a gusty, exhausted sigh that heated a tiny patch of your crappy motel pillow. Face mushed against it, you frowned, youreyes still firmly closed against the presence in the room. It was three in the morning (you only knew this because you had just finished a job and had collapsed, fully clothed, on top of the bed), and he was sucking all the heat out of the room. "It's a thing humans do."

He hummed. "I'm aware."

You waited. He was still there. There was a feeling of pins and needles along your back that came when something powerful turned its attention towards you. "So, go away?"

"No. I have work for you to do."

"You _had_ work for me to do. I did it. I need to recharge." You pointed a finger towards the headboard because you were too tired to shift and point it at the bathroom behind you and across the room. "Your nasty spell shit is in there."

"Thank you." There was a pause, and you distantly started to pick up on his tone. He sounded strange. Subdued. "You know I can – "

You raised the same finger up to the ceiling in protest. "No. No Angel mojo, please. I dislike staying awake for more than forty eight hours straight. You juiced me for this one. My body doesn't like it."

"That's ridiculous."

You curled your finger back into the grip you had on the pillow. "S'truth."

"My Grace should not have that effect on your body. I could make you stay awake for weeks on end if I chose."

Not the point, you thought. Sanity was important as a Hunter. And a human. No Angel seemed to understand that sleep was good for mental health. "Mm. Do that and I won't help you anymore."

There was a rustle and shift, and you imagined him crossing his arms to glare down at you like the Diva he was. "You're under the impression that you can walk away from me."

Oh, that was a dark tone. Darker than you would have thought from him with your little teasing remark. You had expected his pissy and horrible 'you've-severely-annoyed-me-I-want-to-smite-you-unless-you-change-your-attitude-quickly' voice. Not an actual 'I'm-on-the-verge-of-killing-you' voice.

Heaving your body over was the hardest thing you had had to do today, and that included harvesting werewolf organs from a family pack of seven. You were just thankful none of them had been children. Your moral code tended to fall into grey areas at times, but hurting children - even monster children - was a giant 'NO' on the moral scale. Let them grow up and have a fighting chance. It was only fair.

Once flopped over onto your back, one arm stretched wide across the twin bed, you kept your eyes closed to stem the inevitable confrontation of an irate Archangel. He was terrifying at times, but you tried your best to ignore the fear. It was what helped you cope when your friend Lily had introduced you to the Morning Star in a dive bar in BFE - because she was a freaky, closet Lucifer enthusiast – and you had somehow ended up charming your way into being his go-to gal for ritual memorabilia.

Having a grandmother for a witch had helped, too.

"Don't be so sour. I thought you liked my attitude."

The mood shifted again. Such a palpable presence he had. The anger seemed to simmer to a dull burn. "'Tolerate' is a more apt word."

"'Like' is a much better one."

The temperature very suddenly dropped several degrees. You sighed. "Please don't do that."

"What?"

You grunted. "You know exactly what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You rolled your eyes behind closed eyelids. It had been a while since you had seen him in person. Usually he sent a minion to tell you what he needed. Said minion would teleport you to a place, you would get the job done, and he would either send another minion to collect the stuff, or he would come when everything was set up for the next stage of his plan. Usually, you were off doing the next job. This was an unexpected housecall. Well, if a crappy motel off a motorway at the edge of a city counted as a house.

The silence was long enough to have you dozing. If he wasn't going to cave and tell you what he was really here for, he could fuck off and let you sleep.

A car passed by throwing up a column of light across your eyelids. Doors thumped. Voices murmured past the window. The voices turned into giggling, and then key rattling, and then moans.

Oh, awesome. Just what you needed.

The new neighbours got into their temporary domicile, and then the thumps started. A bag falling. Shoes. Bodies against the wall. The dresser being knocked. More giggling. Laughter. Moans. And they hit the bed.

Which was against the headboard of yours on the other side.

The rhythm was fast paced and the moans of the woman were obscenely ridiculous.

"Oh, come on," you huffed, opening your eyes to the bare ceiling. "There's no fucking way he's that good. Calm the fuck down!"

It kept going, but did slow down. Thankful, you threw your arm over your eyes with a sigh.

"I never understood the practice of fornication."

You could hear the disgust in his voice, and agreed with the emotion on principle for the situation. It was likely a passing couple, or a prostitute. And this motel was a dump. "Decided to talk now, have we? And it's called sex."

"Watch your tone," he said, but there was no real heat in it. Instead, he just sounded tired. What the hell had happened to him? "It's a disgusting action. Human disease and fluids; rampant and abundant."

"Sex can be messy and horrible – and I agree with the nasty part in places like this, and good God some of the ideas people have – but it feels good. Humans are also greedy. Once they find something they like, they keep doing it."

"It's base, and crude, and shows you for the true, flawed abortions you really are. Father's biggest mistake."

You kept your mouth shut for a moment, working through that lovely little insight. It sounded like he had said it before. Those exact words, expressed in that way, but again there was a lack of conviction that you didn't understand. "All animals do it for reproduction," you said carefully. "Some animals even do it for fun or connection."

"Angels are above such things."

"I've heard of Nephelim, so I'm calling you on that one. There's also Gabriel -"

There was a quiet hiss, followed by a sudden fury in his voice. "The Fallen and disloyal. Unworthy scum that suck on humanity."

You licked your lips. That was ... that was a very harsh response. Very unwilling to cross into the territory of what had him this way, you let the first thing that entered your mind come out. "You haven't experienced it, so I don't see how you can comment."

It derailed him completely. A tense moment of silence, and then a baffled, "And what makes you think that?"

The moans in the next room crescendoed into an explosive orgasm. Awkward. There was five minutes of silence, in which you were starting to relish, until they started up again. It was slower, and quieter, but still. "Oh God. I'm not actually going to get any sleep, am I? And you have to be. No one talks about sex that way unless they've had a terrible go of it, or they've never experienced it. You don't strike me as the type that would have had a terrible time."

"Why do you say that?"

"You probably would have said, for one. You're telling me Angels are above such base instincts, so you're counting yourself there, and I really don't see you picking a human to have sex with randomly anyway. You loathe us. Even me. I do you as you want me to, and you haven't smote me or harmed me - because I'm a good little human who kinda likes you, and feels bad for you, and doesn't want to die - but I'm still alive. All valid reasons. If you can't like me in a normal capacity, then I don't see you finding someone to be intimate with."

The bed dipped. The cold came closer. You took in a deep breath and released it slowly as you allowed your arm to slip above your head to the pillow. You opened your eyes to view his human vessel very close, straddling your body on all fours to look down at you. He looked awful. His skin was raw and sore, breaking apart like he was bursting from the inside out. It was all along his temples and cheeks and hands, and his hair was a bit wilder than you had last seen it. His skin was sickly pale with dark shadows around his eyes. He was also getting a bit of a paunch. All that Demon blood to keep him anchored.

"You equate sex with intimacy."

"To a point, yes," you answered simply, allowing your eyes to take him in to catalogue how far he was disintegrating. The cold draped around the bed like invisible vapour. You shivered reflexively.

He frowned. "Why?"

"Sex is connection. I can't have sex with someone I'm not emotionally connected or invested in. It bores me. It should feel good. It can be fun and mind blowing and make you think you see Heaven on Earth if done correctly." The moans died down after another happy orgasm. There was a nice quietness easing into the room. You sighed, bringing the hand that had been flung to one side up to trace the sores on the right side of his face. You scrunched up your face in sympathy. There was nothing like feeling too big for your skin. "Humans have spent their entire existence in the absence of God. We've had no proof of something bigger than us but what we interpret in our everyday lives. Finding connection with each other is all we have at times. In family and friends. In our offspring and our partners. We don't have what you have."

His expression was quiet, eyes roving over your features. There was something there in his gaze that you found hard to pinpoint. "And what's that?"

"Proof of our Faith. We don't have it until we die. And even then, we still question it. Our entire lives," you lamented, "and all we think about at the end is the question of 'is there something more?' At least Angels know."

His expression didn't change, but he tilted his head. You smiled a bit at the gesture. He had been locked away for millennia, carrying his avid hatred, and he still had the same curious gesture that you had seen from other Angels. But he eventually frowned, and moved to pull away, as if he had expected that answer. "My brother was wrong. Typical human imaginings. Even when you die, you still want more. There is nothing worthy of loyalty or regard."

You pulled your hand away and sighed. You didn't understand what he was getting at, but you were annoyed that out of all of that, he still misinterpreted what you were saying. Leaning up on your elbows, you frowned at him. He jerked to a stop, still hovering over you. "Why do you – why are you - " You stopped and clenched your jaw in mild frustration, before releasing a sigh. "You know what? Fine. I'll make you a deal. As stupid as this sounds," You cringed as you said it, "I would like you to kiss me – don't make a face I haven't finished yet. It sounds like a bad cliché, but I'd like you to try it. At least once." You awkwardly spread your fingers in a placating gesture. "If you don't feel anything, or experience anything at all, then that's the end of it."

He shook his head, genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Because I don't like strong opinions on something someone hasn't tried. Clearly something has happened that you don't want to talk about – and I won't pry because it's not my place and you'll do horrible things to me – but if you're going to hate humanity, don't hate us for what your Father gave us. Yes, we took liberties with free will, and we are a poor example of something that God made considering how utterly, mind-blowingly beautiful the world is, but we still have base instincts that came with the package."

There were still several inches between your faces, but you held fast to see what he would say. You didn't expect him to frown at you and just dive in. You would deny the squeak if anyone asked, but it was your first reaction to seeing him loom in close. You jerked away. "Wait a minute! I have some stipulations."

He brought his head back and adjusted his hands on either side of you with a long suffering sigh. "You said – "

"I know what I said. Doesn't mean you just go for it and expect whatever it is you're expecting. You can't go into this deal automatically assuming you'll feel nothing. This is an opinion of us as a species, and me as a kisser, so I'd rather you actually make the most of it, thanks."

"Get on with your terms, then. Before I lose what's left of my patience."

After making sure he was actually serious and not feeling smitey, you relaxed a bit onto your elbows. "I'll make it quick."

"Good."

"Don't start."

He kept mercifully silent, but gave you a look.

"Alright." You cleared your throat. "Give it a few seconds so you can judge. We'll try more than one straight kiss, because a chaste kiss can be nice, but a little more can make or break it. Participation is key. If you're not trying, then the entire point of it is lost. Instructions might be needed since you've never done it before so patience and actually listening is good. Oh, and let me breathe when I need to because I know you won't. Listen to the queues I'm giving you. I may not be able to vocalise instantly, so body language is important. Just give it a chance – "

"This is quick? You're telling me I should try one kiss, yet you are giving me pressure and demands before we've even started. I don't see how this is supposed to convince me to – "

You realised he was actually right, so you leaned up and just gently pressed your mouth to his to shut him up before he did something that didn't agree with you staying alive. Eyes closing reflexively, you opened up your other senses for the experience. He was cold. That was a given. You had lost your balance once when a Demon shoved you rather rudely, and had grabbed the nearest person to you at the time. His skin had felt alive with energy, but dense with a cold that made your fingers tingle. His lips felt the same, but not as heavy, if that made any sense at all. It was a bit like brushing off a cold pillow. Soft, a little dry, but quite soothing. He didn't respond for a moment, and then it was like everything you had said clicked and he was pressing back with the same pressure.

After a few seconds you pulled away. Opening your eyes, you watched him stare at you, suspecting he had kept his eyes open the entire time. You could see his mind working, eyes assessing you carefully. He seemed to come to a decision and leaned in again. You tried to hold in a smile when you sank down a bit onto the bed before he reached you. He stopped to evaluate your response again, and then leaned down to follow. You allowed his lips to brush yours once, twice, and then sank down again. Your arms were getting tired supporting your weight, but teasing him a little was too fun.

Features hardening a little at your game, he dropped his weight down on you rather abruptly. You huffed out a laugh at the childish move, but it was muffled when he brought his mouth down to follow suit. The kiss was still chaste, but you could feel him put more effort into it. A little more pressure, and you turned your head just a tiny amount to let his bottom lip come between your own.

A small puff of air huffed across your cheek at the action. Pleased, you squirmed a bit to get more comfortable. One of his legs was now between yours, with his torso caging you as much as he was able without opening your legs altogether. He fitted along your side and front, adjusting his arms to bear his weight on either side of your shoulders and head.

Wanting to guide him some, you gently grasped his head on either side and pulled him away. He did so immediately. "Open your mouth a little. Move it with mine. It doesn't have to be one long kiss. It can be short little ones too."

He was leaning in before you even finished your sentence and trapped your bottom lip like you had done to him. You couldn't help the small noise that escaped you. That was nice. He pulled back again and you angled them a different way.

He seemed to enjoy it overall. There were no noises from him, but he was intent in participating, which was more than you had expected. He might just be resolutely set on completing the task to his fullest ability so he could give you a properly informed opinion of how right he had been, but it was better than nothing.

You gently pushed him away again. "Is this okay?"

"Yes." He licked his lips and holyshithehadaforkedtongue.

"I - huh. Do that again."

He frowned and shook his head at the non-sequitur. "What?"

You held his face in your hands and rubbed your thumbs along the corners of his mouth. "Your tongue. Let me see it." This was highly important. He stuck out his tongue like a child, and you stared, mesmerised. "You have a forked tongue."

He tucked it away. "I do. Why do you look like that?"

"You have a forked tongue."

"Have you lost the ability to function? What's wrong with you?"

You finally tore your gaze away from his mouth and looked up to meet his dark eyes. "I've never kissed someone with a forked tongue."

"Well, now you have."

"No, that wasn't – I mean, yes it was kissing, but I was gonna end it there if you were happy. I didn't think you'd go for tongues but now I kinda want to try. Can I try?" You absently ran your thumb along his lower lip. It seemed to distract him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You nodded. You probably sounded a little crazy but seriously, you were already kissing Lucifer, why not make it interesting? Informed opinion and all. "Sorry, but just go with it, please. Part your lips. Mouth open a bit. You can kiss with tongues involved."

Something clicked in his expression, but he curled his lip. "I have seen that practice. It looks vile."

You gently tugged his head back down towards you. He resisted. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but I would really," You brushed your mouth against his, "really," And again, "like to try."

You were amused to find he'd already developed an automatic response by pursing his lips to meet yours even though his face was painted confused bafflement. You caught him in another short kiss, and he grunted, "Fine," and reciprocated.

He opened his mouth a fraction, and you carefully licked the inside of his bottom lip in preparation for entering, watching his reaction through half closed eyes in case he bit down on reflex. He inhaled sharply, eyes dropping and turning a little glazed. Taking that positively, you licked his teeth, and he opened more until you could brush your tongue against his.

He didn't taste of anything in particular, thank God. You belatedly remembered the potential aftertaste of Demon blood, but there was just the semi-dry feeling of the flat of his tongue and the sudden dip between the two sections. He grunted, and released a breath through his nose to whoosh across your cheek. The bi-sectioned tip curled up on reflex to trap yours. You shuddered, a short, aborted moan vibrating in your throat. Retreating back, you slid your hands up into his hair to pull the strands taught and press him closer. Your left leg almost had a mind of its own when it dragged up the back of his right that was between yours. He twitched, head tilting, mouth opening wider. He took initiative hesitantly, the forked tip licking along your bottom lip before he entered. Feeling a bit bold and wanting more, you allowed him a few seconds to trace along your teeth and tongue before trapping the slick muscle between your lips and sucking hard.

He groaned, heavy and loud, and then his hands were in your hair to angle your head so he could surge in again. Over and over, curling up and around, meeting to confront in the middle when neither of you wanted to give in to the other. He seemed to have a sensitive lower lip. When you bit it lightly, he hissed but allowed you to do it again and again, with his dark gaze watching you. He was surprisingly willing to let you pull him closer with fistfuls of his hair, going so far as to press into you harder when you did it. He groaned, grunted deep in his throat, and tightened his grip on your hair when you sucked on his tongue again, and he seemed to enjoy the sensation of your palate on the sensitive tips.

You couldn't get enough of it. It was a dual sensation. He used the bi-sected muscle to pin your tongue several times, so he could drag parallel along the sensitive edges. Your palate was fairly sensitive, so it tickled when he barely brushed the tips along the ridges.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you pulled back for some air to find your mouth pleasantly sore and jaw tired. Panting lightly, you let your eyes rove over his features. His hair was wild, his eyes bright, mouth a little red, and lips plump. His breathing was a little shallow too.

"Wow," you said, blinking up at him. He didn't answer verbally, but he nodded. "Jesus."

He made a negating noise. "Lucifer."

You laughed breathlessly. "Yeah. Lucifer."

He dropped his head to rest his forehead on yours, making a pleased noise.

You didn't know what to do now. You were suddenly in new territory. Did you stop? Ask for more? Ask him what he wanted? This hadn't been how you had planned your night. Unsure, you thought to let him take the initiative if he wanted to. How do you transition from kissing Lucifer to going back to normal? Had he formed his opinion? Was that what this was anymore? To soothe your racing mind, you decided to use the lull to your advantage. You threaded your fingers through his hair to smooth it out. He closed his eyes at the motions, and leaned into you when you palmed his jaw and slipped your hands down his chest, and then around to his back to soothe the tense muscles of his vessel.

He relaxed in increments until he was chest to chest with you, but you could still breathe comfortably. His head dropped down to your left shoulder, the cool puff of a sigh chilling your skin. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you slowly trailed your hands down where you imagined his wings would be until you hit his lower back. Several minutes of petting, and then you gently tugged up the hem of his over-shirt and t-shirt until you could scratch your nails along his skin. He arched up slightly, causing his lower body to shift against your leg, and released a soft hiss.

He was aroused. The hard length of him along your thigh was evidence enough of that.

"Is this a normal feeling?"

His voice sounded rough, low, and a little muffled by his mouth against your skin. You swallowed, skin prickling and fingers curling into his skin. Clearing your throat, you asked him, "Which part?"

There was a short pause, in which you thought he was trying to find the best way to articulate how arousal felt to someone who'd never felt it before. "I ache."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"That's normal. It's arousal."

"I need something... _Need_." He said the word with such confusion and disgust. "I _need_. I have never –" He stopped, rising up to look down at you. He looked angry, confused, and a little lost. "This is not something..."

_Not something I expected. Or wanted. Or have felt before._

Saying he didn't like it would be an understatement. You could tell it was something he had prided himself on ignoring. Angels didn't experience feelings like this. They were better, stronger, and more superior to humans. They had lived millennia in Heaven, away from it all. Or in his case, a cage in Hell, where he had felt nothing but hatred and contempt, and a burning desire to punish them all for transgressions their ancestors had committed.

Unwilling to move lest you disturb his new discovery of what humans could feel, you just rested your hands on the cool skin of his lower back and waited it out. You could see his struggle. Fury was building in his dark gaze, but it wasn't aimed at you directly, even though you suspected it should be. You had encouraged him to participate, after all. He was staring just above your crown, and you didn't think he noticed that he was still cradling your head in his large hands. Underneath the fury, was something akin to regret ... and pain. Something deep-seated that you didn't understand, but that you believed was related to his reasons for being here with you now.

He finally turned his regard back to you, where he just stared. You could see the ancient being there, bitter and so very old and tired, that had waited for his due. You did the only thing you could think of; you brought your hands up to pull him down to you and kissed him.

Your entire life was made up of hunting, surviving, and cleaning up the world. Humanity was nearing it's end once Lucifer finished his plans, and you had ended up throwing your lot in with him simply because you had nothing else. You had tried to be good all your life, had expected to end up in Hell anyway, and you had nothing left to lose except yourself.

Until you died, you thought you might as well lose yourself in him.

He tensed at first, but then he released a low growl before driving open your mouth to consume anything you could offer him. What had been a gorgeous exploration of different ways of kissing earlier was now a deep, greedy well of want. You could barely keep up. He insinuated himself in the cradle of your thighs with a gripping adjustment of your leg. He wrapped it around his waist and thrust instinctively. When he couldn't get the right amount of friction, he growled in frustration, tearing his mouth away to suck a biting kiss at your pulse.

You released a surprised shout at the sharp nip, quickly shoving your hands down and under his shirts to pull them up. They got stuck between you both, but he arched his back up and tugged them off with violent, sharp movements. You almost wondered if he'd forgotten he was an Angel but the thought was lost when he shifted down further, dragging at the covers and taking a tight grip of your tank top. It hitched on your chest, but you helped him get it off, and arched up to unclasp your bra so he wouldn't have to think about it. You faltered with a breathless gasp when he took the opportunity to wind his arm behind you to pull you up for better access to your skin.

He was freezing, but you were so flushed that it was actually pretty fucking awesome. The bra came loose, and you both pulled impatiently enough that a strap snapped against you before he tossed it away. Half risen from the bed, you bore down on his lap with a groan when his cold tongue found your nipple. "Fuck!" you gasped. "Lucifer."

He moaned at the use of his name, opening his mouth to suck and trap your nipple with his bisected tongue. Your hands flew up to grasp his hair in a tight grip, mouth opening and eyes rolling up at the shot of arousal that dropped to your gut. You were making ridiculous noises when he moved to the other one, anchoring you to him with both arms wrapped around your back. His impatience won out when you felt herself drop to the bed without care, only to feel him fumble at your jeans.

"I need – " He choked when you hooked your legs around him to grind against his length. He panted, hands stilling, letting his head fall back with a helpless thrust of his hips. "I can't – I don't – " He bared his teeth and clenched his jaw.

You came back to your senses a bit when you caughtwhat he was saying. New territory. Knowing the mechanics and feeling the hormones that go with sex were two different things. Forcing some of the haze away, you clawed at his shoulders until you were upright and sitting in his lap. You caught his adams apple for a sucking bite. He released a word you didn't recognise, guttural and low, hugging you to him to support you and keep you close. Holding yourself up by a hand on the back of his neck and one arm over to rest on his opposite shoulder blade, you bit and sucked up to his lower lip before reminding him what he was. "Lucifer. Archangel. The Morning Star and second born to God. Fuck me."

He groaned before you were suddenly both naked, and he was restlessly palming your thighs and ass. Wanting more of that tongue, you practically ate at his mouth while you used one hand to check your own readiness. Slipping a hand between you, you found you were slick, but to make sure, you inserted two fingers gently to encourage your body to release more. You brushed a spot, and grunted at the spike of pleasure through your body. It felt like a current of electricity tightening your muscles. Hand partially coated, you slipped slick fingers around his length. His breath got stuck in his throat on an aborted grunt, grip moving to knead your ass roughly. He thrust into your hand. Skin slick from sweat, you adjusted your grip so he was close enough to graze your clit. "Fuck that's good," you gasped, pulling back from his mouth to suck in a gulp of air. Lucifer gasped and dropped his head to bite harshly at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You got the message. Rising up, you carefully lined him up, and steadily dropped your weight down. His grip got tighter, and he jerked, causing him to drive a little deeper before you were quite ready. "Easy," you panted. "Give me a second."

He growled, but tensed with everything he had, letting go of your neck with a sucking pop to rest his cool temple against your own. Icy breaths puffed across your skin, causing you to shudder, which in turn caused a small whine to erupt from his throat when you inadvertently tightened around him. He growled out your name.

"Fuck," you gasped, clutching at his forearm - it was thick and hard with how still he was holding himself - when he jerked again, hitting a sensitive spot that made you ache for more. "Sorry." Forcing yourself to relax, you sank a little further, until there was no more space between you. He was big. Bigger than what you'd had before, and it was tight, just a hair's breadth away from uncomfortable, but you would adjust. You had to. You wanted to. It had just been a while. "Oh." You swallowed. "Oh, you feel good. So, so good."

He groaned out your name again in warning.

You nodded, pulling back to land on the bed but keeping him close so you could encourage him to fall with you. He went easily, before sliding his hands up your waist, over your breasts with a light touch, and ending up under your shoulders to keep you locked to him. You sucked in a much needed breath at the change in angle, and he tensed for just a moment, muscles taught along his back and legs, and then he shifted his hips back. "Instinct should kick in," you said, voice shaky and a little weak, "no matter what you are."

He nodded, but you didn't think he actually registered your words, because he was already surging back into you with one, long thrust. He brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just inside and up, and you wrapped your legs around his thighs with a soft hiss.

What began as a careful list forward and retreat, turned into a steady, flexing roll that stole your senses. The noises you made probably rivalled the neighbours, but _good fucking God it was good_. It wasn't even that he managed to hit some good spots several times in a row; it was that he was learning how to move by how you reacted and the sound of him ... Jesus. The sound of him. He was panting, groaning, and rambling a steady stream of what sounded like Enochian, face buried in your neck.

He sped up again after a few minutes, a driving force of desperation and need, and you was surprised he had lasted this long. You were also surprised that he managed to curb his celestial strength.

You were building quickly. Too much sensation, coupled with who you were actually doing this with - Lucifer the Archangel, second born to God, who'd been cast out to reside in a cage in the depths of Hell, and who was ridiculously controlled and attentive to you - was sending your brain into overload. Once, just once, you dragged your head up to look down along the line of his back. Fuck, it was a sight to behold. Tense muscles, although pale, flexed with sharp rolls, until he began a blinding pace that forced your head to fall back so you could breathe. He released a shoulder to grasp one thigh, hitching it high and tight against him, opening you more so he could ground down harder.

You keened in his ear and tried to grab the headboard to help with traction. It was pointless, so instead you dragged your nails down his back just as he hit the right spot that hitched you higher and higher and higher until you broke. Arching up, your whole body tensed. You couldn't breathe. Your lungs just stopped altogether, which nearly caused you to black out. Spots tingled across your vision and just when you couldn't take it, your ears picked up his voice.

The Enochian was rougher, and he allowed you one deep breath before latching his mouth to yours. With your last brain cell, you managed to reciprocate enough to give a last hard suck on his tongue and he was gone. His rhythm was lost immediately, and he grunted, tearing his mouth from yours to shout his release into the damp skin of your neck.

For several moments, he couldn't stop the reflexive surge of his hips, and you pulsed and tightened around him when he hit an over-sensitive spot. He hissed when it became too much, but he held fast to you when you tried to let him up. You lay back, content to wait. After several minutes of combing your fingers through his hair and calming your heart, he eventually slipped out, and shuffled down to rest his head on your breast, legs tangled with yours. The two of youstayed that way for some time, until you fell asleep.

You woke up alone, pleasantly sore, but aching. Two days later, a Demon told you that Gabriel was no longer in the picture, and hadn't been for several days.

Lucifer had killed his brother.


End file.
